


Don't Ever Turn it Off

by Belle_Raconteur97



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Raconteur97/pseuds/Belle_Raconteur97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas steal an afternoon together, making Dean realize how grateful he is for every moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ever Turn it Off

**Author's Note:**

> My first Supernatural fic, and Destiel. Also, my first smut(smut-like?)situation. I just really wanted to write about a happy moment for these two- this would occur have been earlyish season 9, if Cas had stayed in the bunker, and just stuff.
> 
> Questions, comments and corrections always welcome! :)
> 
> Song that inspired me, and the title is taken from: I'm Going to Scream Pt 2- My Morning Jacket  
> Led Zeppelin song Dean was humming: D'yer Ma'ker 
> 
> (I do not own these songs; Dean, Sam, Cas or Supernatural!)

 

There were only so many times and places a jaded hunter and his former guardian angel/lover could steal kisses.  Dean was aware that Sammy had caught him and Cas in more than one illicit embrace; their hands roaming, rushing, devouring each other; learning new secrets and revisiting old favorites.  At this moment, Cas held Dean against the door of his bedroom in the bunker hallway, his lips firmly covering Dean’s in long, indulgent kisses.  One of Castiel’s steel-like lean hands had Dean pinned to the door by his shoulder, the other was tracing electric circles under the hunter’s shirt, along his strong waist and lower back.

 

Dean thought his knees were going to give out at any moment; Cas usually saved the long kisses and gentle touches to times when they were completely alone. Sam was wandering around the bunker, working on some Abbadon research.  He could potentially come down this hall at any moment; the rush of possibly getting busted mid-makeout session by his brother warred with the languorous nature of the kisses Cas trailed from his mouth and along his jaw, towards his ear.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, the name escaping on a moan he was trying to mute.

 

 

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel answered, promptly, never missing a kiss as he arrived at his final destination.  That sweet place where Dean’s earlobe and neck met.  The heat of the fallen angel’s tongue causing Dean to to moan louder, and arch his body sharply away from the door, pressing his chest to Cas’.  Their hips met briefly, sending a shock wave from pelvis outward, causing Dean to groan once again.

 

“Don’t you think we should take this out of the hall?  If Sam comes this way----” Dean’s raspy plea was cut short when Castiel grabbed him by the hips, slotting his body against the older Winchesters, like fitting two puzzle pieces.  Dean saw stars, he saw the whole fucking universe behind his eyes.

 

“We told Sam we would help him research,” Cas murmured against his ear, teeth grazing his earlobe, velvet tongue tasting quickly.  His matter-of-fact voice catching, stuttering as he pressed closer to Dean, which the hunter had thought impossible until that moment. Dean saw stars again, groaning as he reached desperately for some part of Cas to grab.  He slid his fingers into the waistband of Cas’ pants, along his lower back.  This time it was Castiel’s turn to arch his back in response to the hunters touch.  

 

Dean took the moment to admire Castiel; dark hair mussed from his fingers, blue eyes bright and glazed with passion and excitement.  Cas had adopted a more casual style since returning to the bunker.  The soft, rust-colored thermal henley shirt and old, dark Levi’s Castiel wore under his trenchcoat now really did something to Dean.  It was always Cas, but he liked the thought of Cas picking out clothes every morning.  Taking the time to select a shirt, some pants, even socks.  Cas always wore odd socks under a scuffed pair of brown combat boots.  Dean peeked down to see that today was no different, with the exception that Cas was not wearing boots to hide brightely colored Scooby Doo socks.  Dean was pretty sure the socks were bought at the last truck stop they had hit up for coffee and pie.

 

“Well, we can, but maybe we should take a break.  You know,” Dean paused to press his lips against Castiel’s, “maybe we need some time to work off steam.  We haven’t had a hunt in a few days, there's no sign of Abbadon.  It’s been quiet.”  Dean’s forehead was resting against Cas’ cheek at this point, and he turned just enough to slant a sly look upward, green eyes meeting blue.  The corners of his eyes crinkles, when he saw that Cas was going to give in.  “Just a few hours,” Dean cajoled, already leaning in to nip at the side of Castiel’s neck.  He sucked the spot he had just bitten, and then licked and soothed with his tongue.  He let his hot breath trail over the wet spot, while he nuzzled his unshaven face into Cas’ neck.  Dean was already hard, and the sounds Cas made as Dean lavished attention on his neck send a pulsing throb through him.  Dean reached down to try and adjust his cock, which was pushing insistently against his fly.  At the contact, Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he almost lost his dignity right there in the hall.

 

Cas watched Dean touch himself from under his lashes, and Dean let his hand linger longer than necessary.  He loved that he had made Cas start panting, breath short; pink tongue pointed out between soft, dry lips.  Cas was furiously trying to take a real breath and moisten his lips with the tip of his pretty, pink tongue.  Dean trailed his hand over his own erection, and then to the front of his lover’s jeans.  Torturing, teasing, he just fiddled with the button, and used it as a hand hold to yank Castiel in for another luxurious kiss.

 

Dean closed his eyes as he pushed his tongue through accepting teeth, and across a waiting tongue.  He breathed deep, drawing in the clean, spicy scent that he had come to identify as Castiel, his savior and guardian angel, a long time ago.  It was what Dean imagined a mountain top monastery would smell like; a perfect mix of brisk clean air and spicy, deep incense. The scent made Dean’s mouth water, and he felt his dick twitch.  It was time to take this into his room, research- and Sam- be damned.  Dean chuckled over the odds of the research actually leading to them being damned.  That was the best reason he had to take a break from his work, and enjoy this private, happy hour.  He reached back, while gasping for air around Castiel’s mouth, and opened the door to his bedroom.  

 

Castiel made a sound that could almost be called a protest, before Dean swallowed it, consuming his mouth.  Dean was being backed up against the foot of his bed, Cast was pulling the hem of Dean’s long sleeve t-shirt up over Dean’s face.  When the was over his head, Cas twisted it around one hand to lock Dean’s arms up over his head, and pushed him backward to fall on the bed.  Dean was trapped, hands immobile, with Castiel straddling his hips, slowly grinding circles with his pelvis against Dean’s. “Ooohhh, sweet fuck.  Caaassss…” Dean moaned, not caring about volume.  The bunker was built, well, like a bunker.  Heavy doors and concrete walls muffled most sound, and Dean’s stereo was playing a Led Zepplin CD on repeat.  He forgotten to turn it off, when Sam had knocked on his door, just a few hours ago.

 

“Dean,” Cas whispered against his jaw, and Dean felt the body pressed against him tremble.  Dean nipped, eyes shut tight, seeking Castiel’s mouth, not caring how ridiculous he looked.  He heard a dry chuckle as his lover caught his jaw bone, then his bottom lip in his teeth.  Dean groaned again, thrashing against the restraint; it was so fucking hot.  Cas was denying him any control in the situation.  “Move up,” Cas ordered.  He never let go of the shirt, as Dean moved up toward the headboard.  He realized he was at a wonky angle, and Cas hooked the twisted sleeves of the shirt over the corner of the headboard, leaving his hands available to tease… taunt… torture.  His slightly calloused palms grazed the plains of Dean’s abs and back.  This strong, lean thumbs massaged circles along Dean’s side, prompting convulsive shivers to wrack his body. Unable to see, every touch was a shock, interfering with his ability to reason.  

 

“What do you want, Dean?” The deep gravelly voice asked, the questioning mouth was hovering dangerously near Dean's left nipple.  Dean’s mouth went as dry as the Sahara. The wet heat of Cas’ breath combined with the ever present grinding of his hips was unraveling Dean.  He had lost the ability to issue cocky remarks before they had made it in the room; he barely knew his name at this point.  He barely managed to croak out three words.  “Cas… want you.”

“Want me to what?” Cas was teasing again.  Dean had recently learned he had a teasing streak, and it drove him fucking crazy.  His pants were painfully tight, and the weight of the smaller man was driving him even closer to the edge.

 

“I want you to fuck me, Cas,” Dean half-sobbed, breath ragged.  Suddenly, Castiel’s hands were yanking at Dean’s belt, and jeans.  As Cas pulled the worn denim down, slowly, Dean bucked against the friction.  He was finally able to open his eyes, blinking, then he groaned again. Cas was taking the rest of his clothes off, and it was sending shivers up and down Dean's body.  Boots were being pulled off to make way for the pants, and then Dean was on his left side.  Cas had shed his clothing too, and was wrapped around Dean from behind.  Whispering words of adoration, admiring Dean as he drew his hands slowly up and down his arms, body, legs, and ass, leaving flickering trails of lightning along his skin.  Castiel has one elbow crooked under his head to support him now, and had one leg propped under one of Dean’s; he licked and nipped at Dean’s neck, while cupping Dean’s balls gently, massaging and playing. He felt the spasm run through Dean, and chuckled against Dean's nape, causing it to happen again.

 

“Do you like that, Dean?” It didn’t even qualify as a question.  Dean could only gulp and nod..  Cas knew he liked it, and he kept juggling, and worked his thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock, gently squeezing, and running; pulling his hand up, and down.  Cas' hand was slick already, pre-come leaving a path for him to follow with his right hand.  Dean growled Cas’ name, panting heavily, now.  Castiel did not pause, just ruthlessly worked his hand up and down Dean’s hard, heavy cock.  Dean swiveled his hips in big, lazy circles, rubbing his ass against the slick head of Castiel’s erection, sliding it teasingly across his ass crack, and back.

 

Cas stopped jacking Dean, and flipped him on his stomach, one leg hitched.  He cupped his balls again from behind, using his free hand to reach the bedside table, digging in the drawer; Dean knew he was looking for the lube, but did not turn to look.  The lid snapped: open, then close.  He felt slick, warm fingers rub along the crevice of his ass, then gently coax the ring of muscle there.  Dean jumped at the heat, forgetting that, true to a veraciously curious nature, Castiel had bought the lube that warms on contact.  Dean ground down into the mattress, rubbing his throbbing cock against the plush blanket, as Castiel eased a forefinger into Dean’s tight ass.  It gently glided in and out before swirling around, spreading slick heat, and quickly added a second finger.  

 

Dean jumped, but both fingers glided in with very little resistance.  This time Cas moved his hand slowly; he pumped both fingers in and out, seeking the sweet spot he knew would had Dean humping the bed in desperation.  With a “Fuck, Cas!” from Dean and a satisfied, slightly hysterical giggle from Cas, he found it.  Dean was grinding the bed, and whimpering as Cas teased his prostate.  Cas knew he could make the writhing man beneath him come, and fast this way.  He also knew that he wanted to fuck him; Dean Winchester had pushed Cas to the precipice, and he wanted nothing more than to bring Dean over the edge with him . Dean was still humping the bed, grunting out moans that were almost rhythmic; Cas slipped one more finger in and Dean’s quick thrust became, deep rolls of his hips.  He was breathing Castiel’s name in and out.  “Cas,cas,cas,cas,” like the chug of a train.  Steady.  

 

“Dean,” was all Cas could say in return, on a ragged sigh.

 

Cas gently pulled his fingers out, tickling the tight hole as he exited.  Slicking the lube and his own pre-come over his cock he lined up, and pushed the head in past the sweet ring of muscle, as he felt Dean tense, he paused.  He relaxed after a moment, and Cas continued, slowly entering Dean; driving himself deep and staying still there, his balls against that beautiful ass, sighing in unison with Dean.  Castiel shared this moment, frozen in time with his lover, left arm now cradling Dean’s head fully, while Dean panted hotly into his bicep.  Castiel had his right arm wrapped around Dean’s abdomen, and was pressing his palm flatly to Dean’s belly, holding him strongly.

 

“I’m here, Dean” Cas whispered, waiting for Dean to move first.  Slowly Dean circled his hips, working himself against Cas’ cock.  Cas was whispering in his ear again, which was so fucking hot considering Dean could hear and feel him, but was not looking at him. “You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Dean Winchester.  I have seen the beginning of the Universe, the creation of this planet, of humankind.  You. Are. A Miracle.” he grunted as Dean started picking up rhythm, thrusts becoming quick and frenzied.  Cas matched Dean thrust for thrust, eliciting a steady moan from the man under him.  

 

Dean felt like he had the wind knocked out of him, a suffocating feeling. All of his senses were overwhelmed: the feeling of Castiel filling him, and embracing him; the smell of Cas and sex; the sounds of their breath, moans, whispers.  He was enveloped in a world of Castiel, who was steadily driving Dean higher, and higher, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot, with every  long stroke. The delicious feeling that unfurled from the depths of Dean was over-bearing.  “Cas, yeeaaahhh, ooooh.  You’re so amazing, you feel... s-s-sooooah ah-amazing,” Dean was repeating, reverently.

 

Meanwhile, Cas was whispering nonsense into Dean’s ear.  Filthy words and sweet declarations, interspersed with moans, and pleading. The desperation in Cas’ voice was wrecking Dean with lust.  He was sure the only thing he could say at this point was, “Fuck, Cas!”  So that’s all he said, over and over.

 

“Dean, I’m going to come,” was the frenzied reply. Cas pulled Dean up against him, and reached lower to take Dean’s cock in hand, stroking quickly completely up the shaft, rubbing his palm over the slick head before stroking downward again.  Dean cried one more, “FUCK! Cas!” before coming all over the bed under him, and Cas’ hand.  As Dean found his completion, Cas was unraveled by the sound of deep moans; the hot, tight feeling of him clenching around Cas' heavy cock.  He spilled himself into Dean, riding out his orgasm, and feverishly driving into Dean, causing his body to convulse and he tumbled out of his own orgasm.

 

Cas hitched Dean closer, moving his hand gently from it’s position around his cock, and back around his midsection.  He untwisted sleeves of the shirt from Dean’s arms, freeing him at last.  Dean was boneless, his limbs languid, and his eyes were already drooping.  He didn’t care how sticky everything was.  He felt Cas pressing small, soft kissed against his neck, and smiled.  Cas eventually disengaged, causing Dean to shiver with small after shocks of pleasure.  He kept himself nestled against Dean’s back for another long moment, and then rolled out of the bed.  Dean whined a protest sound, but did nothing else.  Castiel returned quickly with a towel from the wardrobe and two pairs of Dean’s sweats.

 

Cas cleaned Dean and himself, then steered a loose-limbed Dean from the bed while he stripped off the top blanket.  He noticed Dean’s lazy smile, and smiled back at him as he handed Dean a pair of sweats.  He quickly pulled on the pants he held, and steered Dean under the lighter blanket still on the bed.  Houses of the Holy had started over, again.  As Castiel wrapped himself around his lover, bare chest against back, Dean had started to hum along with the track.

 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas whispered in his ear.

 

Dean hummed in contentment, unable to speak, now that he was drifting.  A mellow happiness, safety, and a satiated feeling washed over him, making him lazy.  He would take a quick nap and then back to research.  This stolen afternoon would hold him over for many missed moments, missed kisses, missed afternoons of love-making.  

 

Happiness was elusive for the Winchesters, and Dean wanted to make sure Cas got his fair share.  He knew Sammy deserved happy times, too, especially after what Dean had put him through.  Maybe now that Dean had found some sort of happiness, he could finally talk to Sammy, like they had used to, and try to earn his trust again.  Dean sighed, banishing the difficult thoughts, just for a while.

 

“What is it, Dean?” asked Castiel, ever vigilant.  Dean just smirked.  Then he just shook his head.  He could almost feel Cas squinting at the back of his head.  He let the topic drop, for the time being, and nuzzled into Dean’s neck.  Lazily they drifted, both unaware that this moment was being memorized by the other.  Detail after detail was hungrily devoured, of this precious sliver of time, to be recalled on gloomy days, and hopeless hunts. At least right now, this sweet, quiet time, with Cas, was perfect.

 


End file.
